


Before It's Too Late

by vix_spes



Category: Arctic (2018), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, The Jane Austen Book Club (2007)
Genre: #SeasonsSlick, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dating, Hannibal Extended Universe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nesting, One Night Stands, Overprotective Siblings, Post-Canon, Reunions, Scenting, True Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-04-20 17:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21992731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: He had survived the Arctic yet he still felt crippling loneliness. And then a chance encounter that he doesn't have to be alone. There was another life out there for him, one that he had thought lost to him ... as long as he isn't too late.
Relationships: Overgård (Arctic)/Grigg Harris
Comments: 39
Kudos: 39
Collections: #SeasonsSlick





	1. Chapter 1

It’s the discomfort that wakes him.

It’s not the same as it was sleeping on the plane, waking every day to freezing cold or the same as walking on his trek, amazed that he was still alive and that another gruelling day of walking lay ahead of him. This was the discomfort of foreign objects in his body. It felt as though he were fighting through a fog, his mind and body lethargic, not wanting to cooperate with him. Finally, he was successful through sheer willpower. He forced his eyes open only to shut them immediately when the lights were too bright. And that was when he realised that there was something unwieldy – plastic? – down his throat, but when he went to try and dislodge it, his arms felt like lead weights. His face was also covered with plastic, making him feel claustrophobic.

That was the point at which he started to panic. His breath hitched in his chest as it came more rapidly, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he struggled as best as he could with uncooperative limbs. And then there were arms pinning him down firmly, so he struggled even more but it just didn’t seem to make a difference. Eventually, exhausted, he gave up and, as he did so, a soft voice penetrated his eardrums. Forcing himself to concentrate, he could make out that the words were being spoken in … was that Norwegian? He was sure that the woman he had rescued had been Thai. At least that was the language on her identity card. And then he focused on the words, not just the language. And then they suddenly started to make sense.

“Sir? Are you awake? Can you hear me? Please calm down sir, otherwise you’re going to hurt yourself more. You’re safe and alive. You’re a patient in the University Hospital of North Norway in Longyearbyen, Svalbard. You were brought here by helicopter five days ago; we were starting to wonder if you’d make it.”

In truth, Huxley had been wondering if he would make it. Had almost resigned himself to the fact that he _wouldn’t _make it. He had been fighting for so long, trying to make it back to civilisation to no avail that he had almost reached his limits. Had been ready to just give up. And then there had been hope. Another plane after all that time and his hope had been rekindled, only for it to crash and burn along with the plane itself. It had been finding the woman – the other alpha - in the wreckage that had given him the strength he needed for one last attempt. He had nearly given up more than once on the journey – when he had faced the polar bear and when he had injured his leg – but he had continued to fight.

Had made it against all the odds.

He finally managed to get his arms to cooperate and clumsily lifted it to whatever was covering his mouth, only to be prevented.

“Sir, you need to keep that on. If you continue making progress, then we’ll remove the tube down your throat, and we’ll take you off the mask. Your lungs are still struggling to work properly; you need the oxygen to help you breathe.”

Her calm manner, plus the firm grasp that she maintained on his arms helped him regain his calm. He still wasn’t comfortable, but he understood which helped. What also helped was that his nurse – he assumed – took the time to explain everything to him. That the tube down his throat and the mask had been to help him breathe while he was unconscious. That the lines inserted into his hand and the crook of his elbow were to provide him with much needed fluids, vitamins and painkillers. As if on cue, Huxley became aware of every single part of his body that throbbed and ached painfully, particularly his fingers, toes and his leg.

“Are you in pain?”

There was something that stayed his tongue, that stopped him from saying.

“There’s no shame in admitting if you’re in pain. You’re not helping yourself by suffering in silence.”

Huxley stayed still for long minutes before he finally inclined his head, pointedly not looking at the woman. Seconds later, he felt the cool, strange sensation of liquid entering his bloodstream followed by blissful relief and then he knew no more.

~*~

When he awoke, he wasn’t even sure of how much time had passed but he felt more aware of himself. His head felt less foggy, more aware and while he was still in pain, it wasn’t overwhelming. Within minutes, there was a nurse at his side, checking the machines and questioning him. He answered them all as best as he could. In turn, the nurse had answered all of his questions. Yes, they had been forced to amputate a couple of his toes that had just been too badly frostbitten to ignore. They had been concerned about several of his fingers, but it was looking good and they were hopeful. Beyond that, the most concerning of his injuries had been the hypothermia and the wound to his leg. However, with the care of the doctors and nurses not to mention Huxley’s innate stubbornness, their concerns lessened each day.

The problem was, while painkillers worked wonders on his injured body, they could do nothing for his mind. Every single day, as he watched visitors traverse the corridors to see other patients, Huxley was reminded that he was all by himself. A lone alpha. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t care, that he didn’t need an omega but all he was doing was trying to fool himself and that knowledge couldn’t be resolved by any amount of painkillers.

(~*~)

He had been awake for maybe four days when his nurse asked if he felt up to visitors. Huxley had grasped at the opportunity; he was starting to get sick of seeing nothing but the same four walls and his nurses. Even so, he wasn’t prepared to see the alpha female that he had saved. He certainly hadn’t been prepared to see her with her mate and their pup. It had been like a knife to the heart.

Almost too much to bear.

The omega and pup were gushing in their thanks, their words of gratitude falling from their lips in a litany. The alpha was less profuse but no less sincere in her thanks. Huxley tolerated them for as long as he could before, to his immense relief, the alpha picked up on his need for space and excused them, leaving contact details for when he felt up to it. Instead, Huxley turned on his side and, ignoring the pain that the position caused, curled up as best as he could under the sheets. As he did so, he allowed himself to drift into memories of the one omega that Huxley had ever considered having it all with.

The omega who was now far beyond Huxley’s grasp.

The omega that had been his for only twenty-four hours yet had left a lasting impression on Huxley’s mind. And his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Several years ago …**

If he was being truthful, Huxley found himself frustrated by the people who kept telling him that his life must be so glamourous. He was a pilot, that’s all he was. Yes, he got to travel the world flying from one destination to another, but that was hardly glamourous. He rarely saw the places that he ended up in, just the inside of another hotel and they were always the same. If he was lucky, he would be able to find somewhere local to eat but, nine times out of ten, it was some crappy room service. Hardly appealing. More than that, it was hardly conducive to meeting an omega to mate with and build a family with. Not that it had to be an omega; Huxley was willing to consider an alpha or a beta as well as the more traditional omega, but he was hardly going to meet anyone doing his current job. Yet, as much as he liked the idea of settling down, he loved the sensation of flying, loved all of the travelling and that wasn’t something that he felt ready to give up. At least not yet.

And then he had met him.

The omega.

He had been on layover with enough time between flying in and his next flight out that he wasn’t expected to stay at the airport. His employers had put him up at some hotel – a nameless chain near the airport in some American city that he couldn’t remember – that had been hosting a convention of some sort. Normally, those kinds of hotels were pretty empty, the only occupants being those wanting to stay close to the airport to catch an early flight. This time, however, the place was bustling with people everywhere, some of them in very strange costumes, all chatting and laughing loudly. From the amount of people covered in coloured body-paint and strange silver costumes, Huxley had the feeling that it was something to do with science-fiction.

The number of people didn’t stop him from going about his usual routine, though. Mostly. As he always did, he checked in and went up to his room to change out of his uniform. Normally, he would order off the room service menu, however something stopped him. Pulling on a comfy jumper and some well-worn jeans that he had had for years, he made his way down to the restaurant. It was busier than he would usually expect but not so busy that he couldn’t get a table by himself. He ordered a beer and a steak before sitting back to watch the other hotel guests.

There were a few who caught his intention and he was the object of several intrigued glances, even received a few invitations to join people, but no-one truly caught his attention until he’d finished his steak and was nearly at the end of his third beer.

He caught the scent first and it had him sitting straighter in his chair, trying to discern where it came from.

It smelt like paper – books – but tinged with two very different scents. One was the sweet scent of donuts while the other had a slight tang to it, one that Huxley had realised over the years and due to his employment was connected to proximity to technology. It was not a combination that Huxley had ever thought he would find appealing yet here he was, mouth practically watering, and he hadn’t even seen the omega yet. And there was no doubt that it was an omega. Yet, there was an edge to the scent. A bitterness that told of the omega’s sadness, their unhappiness.

Then the omega themselves came into view and it was all Huxley could do to remain seated.

He was hardly the kind of alpha pilot who had someone in every city that he touched down in - not like some of his colleagues - but he had slept with a myriad of omegas, betas and even the odd alpha over the years. He had never met anyone whose scent had had such an effect upon him. And that was without even seeing the omega. When he did, Huxley all but lost his breath. He knew how ridiculous, how cliché it was, but it was the truth. There was the perfect, almost curvaceous, omegan form and a riot of dark brown curls that had Huxley’s fingers itching to be buried within them.

And then the omega had looked up and Huxley had been captivated.

Completely and utterly.

The omega was younger than Huxley but not by a crazy amount. He was also at least a little bit interested in Huxley if the way that he was staring was anything to go by. He was also by himself. Knowing that he would regret it if he let this opportunity pass him by, Huxley drained his beer and prepared himself for some flirting.

Successful flirting.

Two drinks apiece each and they were making their way up to Huxley’s room, unable to keep their hands off each other. Even so, it was mostly chaste. There was nothing more than kissing and a bit of fondling above their clothes.Neither of them felt the need for more. They were simply comfortable in each other’s presence. They came at each other’s hand but, beyond that, they did nothing more than kiss and snuggle together until they fell asleep.

~*~

The following morning, Huxley found himself in a rather awkward situation. He didn’t want to be one of those alphas who just cut and ran but he was running out of time to do anything else. His was one of the first flights out and his alarm had gone off some time ago. The problem lay in the omega currently asleep in his bed, nestled in the blankets.

Huxley had tried to shake him awake several times but all he had done was snuffle rather adorably and bury himself deeper into the nest of linens, curled as close around Huxley's pillow as possible. He apparently had absolutely no inclination whatsoever to wake up anytime soon. 

Had he not felt such a connection with the omega, Huxley would not be having these issues. It was crazy, they hadn't really shared any personal information bar names but there was a connection. They hadn't mated, hadn't even knotted, but there was a connection and that was why Huxley was so loathe to just walk out.

In the end, the insistent ringing of his phone - his co-pilot wondering where he was - made the decision for Huxley. Scrawling his number and a brief note on the hotel stationary, he gathered his things and left the omega still slumbering.

Maybe, if he was lucky, there would be a message waiting for him when he landed.


	3. Chapter 3

New York was even worse than he remembered it.

Huxley had never been a huge fan of the bustling metropolis. There were too many people, too much noise, too many things happening at once. It was all just too much. It wasn’t that he was anti-social. He liked spending time with people, but he would never be described as the life and the soul of the party. Before the accident – the crash - Huxley had done everything that he could to avoid the place. He had stayed in the shittest of hotels, taken flights to the arse end of nowhere, swapped shifts. Anything he could. Before he had crashed, he had thought it to be one of the worst places in the world. It was even worse after the silence of the Arctic.

It had taken him a long time to get used to the silence in the Arctic, where the only noises were his own voice, the wind and occasional wildlife. He had never really loved it, but he had grown accustomed to it. Grown used to nothing but the sound of his own voice, even if it was only in his head.

Now, it was the opposite. There were voices everywhere.

Huxley had spent several long months in the University Hospital of North Norway on Svalbard. It had been months of hospital sounds, machines beeping and people talking. It had been jarring. He had recovered relatively quickly from the hypothermia, all things considered, but the leg injury hadn’t been quite so simple. Then again, what did he really expect given that he had crashed through the ice into a crevasse, faced a polar bear and then continued to not just walk on it, but drag another alpha behind him. Even once he had recovered from the wounds themselves, there had been psychiatric assessments, physical therapy. So many hoops to jump through before they deemed that he was well enough to be released back into society.

Having heard of his survival, his employers – or was that former employers? – had immediately offered to not only foot his medical expenses in Norway, but to pay for him to see a counsellor. It was phrased as a generous offer; however Huxley could read between the lines. He knew that it wasn’t something he could refuse. They were trying to make him forget about the fact that they had quickly given up the search for him. That they had abandoned him to the brutality and the mercy of the elements.

Unfortunately for him, given that their head offices were based in New York, their opinion was that the best counsellors were also there. Hence, his presence in the Big Apple. They were paying for him to stay there in a rather fancy apartment while he underwent an initial course of therapy. Once that was done, they would pay him off with a very substantial sum. A sum that, judging by the phone calls and messages that he had been receiving, he would be able to supplement with any number of television and newspaper interviews. Not that he would be engaging with any media outlets. Huxley had no interest in money. He simply had every intention of taking the therapy on offer and then retreating to somewhere quiet.

Somewhere that wasn’t New York.

His therapist – a Dr Bianca Silman – was fantastic. One of the best in the US at what she did. A beta, she specialised in trauma patients and, while Huxley was uncomfortable labelling himself as such, he supposed that he was a trauma victim. That didn’t mean that he was comfortable with the concept of therapy. He didn’t like talking about his feelings. He didn’t see the point. He had crashed – and been stranded - in the Arctic. He had nearly died, but he had survived. What was the use of him talking about it? It wasn’t as though it was going to change anything. Although, to her credit, Dr Silman hadn’t been too off put by Huxley’s taciturn attitude and still persisted in every single appointment.

Huxley would have been tempted to have jacked the whole thing in but there was one thing that had him returning for every single appointment after the third. A certain scent that lingered in the building where the therapy offices were located. It teased at Huxley’s nostrils, lingering there and reminding him of the omega that he had had one night with. The omega that had haunted his dreams for years. The one that he had never quite been able to stop thinking about but that had been playing on his mind more frequently in recent weeks and months.

He had never quite been able to forget the omega once he had been reminded about him. The alpha that he had saved had returned a couple of times with her omega and their pup. Huxley could understand why she had done so, understood that she felt like she owed him something. However, he couldn’t quite figure out how to say that, while he understood her - their – gratitude, it would be less painful than seeing their happiness all the time. The reminder that he was all alone and that nobody except for them would be coming to see him in the hospital.

What he didn’t understand was why he was smelling that same captivating scent; paper tinged with the sweetness of donuts and the tang of technology now. They hadn’t even been in New York the first time that they met. And why was he smelling it lingering near his therapists office? It was really starting to drive him crazy. It didn’t help that New York was full of blissfully happy alpha and omega couples. Oh, not everyone was happy – that was impossible – but that wasn’t the point; the point was that there were enough of them.

Dr Silman, showing exactly why she had such a good reputation, had immediately spotted that there was something going on and had dragged the whole story out of him. It had been like pulling teeth initially. Huxley had never discussed this with anyone but once he had started talking, he couldn’t stop. How he had met the perfect omega in a hotel, how they had had less than twenty-four hours together but how Huxley couldn’t forget him. How he knew that that omega was perfect for him. Was his omega, even if he didn’t know his name. He had spoken how crushed he had been that he had never heard from him again.

Huxley spoke about how the alpha that he had saved in the Arctic had come to visit him in hospital, bringing her omega and pup with her and how that had brought all of the memories to the forefront of his mind. How coming to New York hadn’t made things any easier. How, if anything, it had made it worse. How coming to his appointments was driving him insane because of the scent that reminded him of the omega. Dr Silman had been a bit taken aback by the amount of information that he had unloaded but had made a couple of suggestions, a couple of tasks for him to complete before his next appointment.

As Huxley walked out of the consulting room, he was hit in the face by the scent that had been tormenting him for weeks, far stronger than on any other occasion. He stopped dead in his tracks, Dr Silman walking straight into his back as his gaze locked onto a figure sat in the reception. A figure that he had seen a hundred times in his dreams and memories, one that he had never thought he would have the good fortune to see again.

_His omega._

“You!”

“You!” The omega seemed to be as pole-axed at seeing Huxley as Huxley was at seeing him.

Everyone else in the reception room was starting at them, fascinated by all of the drama and Dr Silman stepped in to rescue the situation.

“Huxley, Grigg, let’s step back into my room and deal with this in private.”


	4. Chapter 4

Huxley followed Dr Silman back into her office in a daze, having gestured for the omega – for Grigg – to go before him. He couldn’t believe it, the odds of something like this happening had to be astronomical. He’s spent a significant amount of his therapy sessions talking about ‘the omega that got away’ and then, as luck would have it, said omega was in the waiting room when he finished his session? It was a sign. Normally, Huxley wouldn’t believe in such things, but there was always a first time forever.

Although, why was he – the omega, Grigg – here in the first place? Dr Silman had called him by name which implied that she knew him. Yes, she had called Huxley by his Christian name when they first met but something in her tone implied familiarity. Why was he here? Why did he need therapy? Was he having therapy? What reason could he possibly have for being at a therapist’s office – and clearly expected – if he wasn’t having therapy? Huxley’s thoughts were spiralling, his head spinning.

And then there was that scent. The one that had captivated him so much the first time that they had met. The one that had haunted his senses in the Arctic. The one that had been tormenting him with the odd waft since he had arrived in New York. Yet, now that he was up close and had filled his lungs with the scent (as subtly as he could), he could discern that it wasn’t quite right. It had that same sour, bitter edge to it that Huxley had noticed in the hotel. That edge that meant the omega was unhappy. Only now it wasn’t an edge. The omega all but reeked of sadness and abandonment.

Huxley hated the way that it made something in his chest twist. No omega should smell like that, but especially not his omega. He wondered why Grigg’s scent still carried that edge. Given the time that had passed, surely he would have recovered from whatever heartache he had been suffering from. Yet, for the bitterness to be even stronger than it had been the night that they spent together? That wasn’t good. The only possible answer was that the alpha – or maybe another one – had hurt Grigg further. Mentally, Huxley cursed whichever alpha had hurt this omega so badly. He looked up as Dr Silman spoke directly to him.

“Huxley? I was asking how you know my brother?”

Huxley’s heart stopped. Brother? Grigg was Dr Silman’s brother? How did that even work? Well, he knew how it worked, but what were the odds? The therapist his former employers had found for him was related to his omega. “Your brother?”

“Yes, I have two sisters and then Grigg is the baby of the family. He’s the only omega out of all of us and quite the favourite. Our other sisters are alphas. Babied and spoilt rotten by everyone. Given that he only moved to New York recently and all you’ve been through, I’m quite intrigued as to how you seem to know him.”

“I didn’t realise you were related.”

“Why would you? We have different surnames and I don’t talk about my personal life with clients, it wouldn’t be professional. You haven’t answered my question. How do you know Grigg? As far as I know he hasn’t been spending time with anyone other than family.

“We, umm … well …” How the hell did Huxley answer this? He had spent so many of his recent appointments talking about the omega that he regretted losing. How did he explain to an overprotective alpha sibling that their beloved little brother was said omega?

“We slept together, Bianca.”

It looked like he wasn’t going to have to. Grigg was going to do it. Bluntly.

“I was at some hotel in the mid-west for a sci-fi convention. We met in the bar and, well, things went from there…”

Dr Silman’s gaze seemed to sharpen. “You slept with him?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

The ome – Grigg’s – light-hearted response seemed to restart Huxley’s heart. Only for it to falter at the anger radiating off his therapist. For all that she had previously been a mild-mannered beta in their appointments, Dr Silman was an older sibling and that was not something to be taken lightly. Still, he would be a poor alpha indeed if he remained quiet.

“Dr Silman, the omega that I’ve been speaking of in my sessions…”

“My little brother is the omega that you had a one-night stand with?”

“Well, yes but…”

“Do you have any idea what you did to him? What you’ve done to him? What kind of an alpha leaves an omega when you have that kind of connection? You broke his heart when you left him alone in that hotel room.”

“I didn’t want to!” Huxley all but roared, his pheromones flooding the air around him in response to the accusations that it was his fault that his omega reeked of unhappiness and upset.

“Bianca, please…” The pleading, tearful voice of Grigg brought an end to the woman’s shouting.

The way that he saturated the air in the office with the scent of fear at the argument forced Huxley to rein back his own control as well.

“Huxley? What is my brother to you?”

He could obfuscate or he could tell the truth. Huxley had the feeling that obfuscating was not going to be helpful. Not when what he said had the potential to affect his future happiness.

“He is everything. He was not just a one-night stand. It sounds appalling when you phrase it like that. You know that I tried. That I left my number and a message for him to contact me.”

“What?” Grigg’s tone contained the same sharp tone as his sister; it was clear to see how they were related. “You left a number?”

“I left more than just a number. I left a message. The only reason that I left the hotel room - left our bed – was because it was demanded of me. We had a flight due to take off and my subordinate wanted to know where I was. I was needed at the airfield. I tried to wake you, tried to explain but … nothing.”

“H-huxley … there was no message.”

“What? Of course there was. I wrote it on the hotel stationary and left it where you were sure to find it. I … I was hoping to maybe find a message waiting for me when I landed.”

“There was no message. I woke up alone in a hotel room and you were gone. No note, nothing. I assumed you’d got what you wanted and left.”

Huxley’s heart was in his throat. The way that Grigg spoke, it implied that he had wanted to see Huxley again. That he had wanted to wake up to the alpha rather than an empty bed. That gave him hope.

“Nothing could be further from the truth. That night did nothing but make me want more from you. I wanted to get to know you, to spend time with you as much as possible. I wanted the possibility of a future with you. If you wanted it as well. I felt a connection with you that I had never experienced with anyone else be they alpha, beta or omega. It was something that I wanted to explore, to see where it would go. If I hadn’t had to leave, I would have been there when you woke up.”

Huxley’s chest was heaving by the time that he finished speaking and he felt strangely vulnerable but it was worth it when he could smell the scent of fear leaving the room completely, while the bitter tang of unhappiness receded just a little bit.

Instead, it was replaced by the brighter scent of shy pleasure.

“I would have liked to explore it as well.” There was a pause that didn’t last long but that felt almost interminable, “I still would.”

Huxley’s heart was beating so fast that he was convinced it was audible, “then perhaps you would be willing to consider going on … a date with me?”

The om- Grigg’s smile was even more beautiful than Huxley had remembered. “I’d like that a lot.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Date #1**

When the day of his first date with Grigg came around, Huxley was more nervous than he had ever thought he would be. He’d been on dates before – of course he had – but when he stopped to think about it, he couldn’t actually remember the last time that he went on one. Obviously, his time in the Arctic was a moot point but, even before that, he couldn’t remember the last date he went on. If he was pressed, it was probably before he accepted his previous contract. Suffice to say that never really staying in the same place longer than a couple of days wasn’t exactly conducive to dating or really anything that wasn’t a quick fuck. None of that was helpful considering he had a date with the omega that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Following his surprise reunion with Grigg at his therapist’s office, Huxley had finally got what he wanted all that time ago; Grigg’s number.

They had exchanged messages almost continuously since their reunion at Dr Silman’s office. By mutual unspoken agreement, the conversation was kept light. They exchanged good mornings when they woke up, inane comments throughout the day – things they had seen, what Grigg had been up to with his niblings, photos, anything – and then good nights before they retired for the evening. They had also made plans for their date. Huxley had been unsure what to suggest. He didn’t want anything that was going to be too high-pressured and had thought of and discarded half a dozen ideas before he settled on the final one. It was simple enough, a walk around Central Park. Low pressure and, if things went well, there were plenty of places of them to stop and have a drink. Grigg certainly seemed happy enough with it when Huxley had suggested it.

Of course, once the decision on where to go had been finalised, there was then the agonising decision of what to wear to be made. Huxley had never been one to care too much about what he wore. A good 80% of the time he was in his uniform and then the rest, well, it was mostly casual clothes that were comfy and well-worn from years of use. Since his release from hospital, he had simply cared that what he wore was functional and kept him warm. Now though, he found that he cared about how he looked. He cared how Grigg thought he looked, and both his wardrobe and his appearance were – in his opinion – sadly lacking.

Clothing shops had never been places that he liked. He tolerated them for long enough to buy what he needed; functional clothes that fitted. Now, he braved one of the bigger department stores and let one of the beta assistants take over. He listened with half an ear as they flitted around him; jabbering away about colour palettes, fabric and fit. Huxley just nodded and hummed in what he hoped were the appropriate places and handed over his credit card when he was deemed finished. The barbers had felt like an indulgence, even given the scolding that he had received about the condition of his hair and beard. He couldn’t deny that it had been soothing – relaxing – though. He had even gone so far as to purchase the products that had been used on him, something that he had never done in the past. Ever.

His discomfort was worth it when, having followed the barber’s instructions regarding his new products and having donned one of his new outfits, he arrived at the spot where he had arranged to meet Grigg. Once he got there, Huxley’s self-esteem issues came to the fore. Grigg had seemed happy to see him again, had seemed enthusiastic in his responses but what if he had changed his mind? What if he decided that Huxley wasn’t worth it? That the alpha had already caused him too much pain and unhappiness. That would be truly torturous, to have been reunited with his omega only to be rejected. To his relief, he didn’t have to wait long before he heard Grigg calling his name and moving to meet him, that oh-so-familiar and tantalising smell hitting him seconds later. Even better was the way that Grigg seemed to bite his lip and flush beautifully as his eyes roamed over Huxley. He was even more grateful that he had made the effort when he saw how beautiful Grigg looked, the blue of his Henley beneath his cardigan emphasising the colour of his eyes.

Huxley didn’t know what to do. It had been far too long since he had been on a date. Thank goodness that Grigg seemed more than happy to take the lead, even if his actions were shy. After some back and forth, not to mention some rather awkward laughter, they had set out around the park. They were both silent for the first stretch of the park before, feeling very much like a bashful teenager, Huxley complimented Grigg on his outfit. At least, that was what he intended to do. He stammered and stuttered through something that he thought was English, feeling even more out of his depth than before. The slight uptick in Grigg’s scent implied that the sentiment had been received – and appreciated - irrespective.

Huxley’s awkward attempt at flirting broke the ice and it was easier from then on. It was exactly the same as when they were messaging, just in person instead. They chatted about their days, what Grigg had been up to with his niblings, Huxley’s ventures into shopping. At some point during their first circuit, their hands brushed against each other once, twice and a third time. On a whim, the third time their pinky fingers touched, Huxley took a gamble and clasped their palms together. He half expected Grigg to pull away, despite how well everything seemed to be going, but instead, the omega tangled their fingers together. All in all, it seemed to be everything that one wanted from a first date.

The only problem was that the entire time they were walking around the park, Huxley had the strangest sensation. One that he couldn’t shake.

One as though they were being watched.

**~*~**

**Date #4**

For their fourth date, they went to the cinema.

The previous two dates had included a little coffee shop that they were both partial to around the corner from Dr Silman’s office and a trip to a gallery that Huxley had seen advertised. Both dates had included more hand-holding and chaste kisses yet, Huxley didn’t feel at all in any rush to push things at a faster speed. Neither of them were ready for that and that was okay by him. He was simply grateful that, each time he saw Grigg, the scent of sadness and abandonment dissipated just a little more. The sour, bitter edge receded so that it was no longer dominating the scent that had captivated Huxley in the hotel that night they first met.

The cinema had been Grigg’s idea. He’d suggested some film at a little arthouse cinema that he knew, and Huxley hadn’t even looked up the name of the film before he had agreed. Even when they were at the cinema and he was buying their tickets and paying for popcorn, Huxley had no idea what film they were seeing. When they got into the cinema screen he cared even less. Huxley couldn’t remember the last time that he had gone to the cinema. He might even have been a teenager. What he did know was that the last time he had visited a cinema, it didn’t look like this.

Rather than row upon row of individual seats, there were some individual seats grouped together but then there were also some small sofas dotted around. To Huxley’s surprise, Grigg made a beeline for one of these. Not that he was complaining. Especially not considering the way that Grigg hesitated briefly before shyly snuggling close. Huxley almost had to remind himself how to breathe, even as he tentatively moved his arm to wrap around Grigg’s shoulder.

There weren’t too many other people in the screen, which was good but, even better, was the fact that unlike their previous three dates, Huxley didn’t feel like they were being watched. What he wasn’t expecting, only five minutes into the film, was for Grigg to nuzzle in closer, all of his focus on Huxley and not on the movie.

“I thought you wanted to see this movie?” Huxley was genuinely confused.

“Huxley,” Grigg turned to him, “I don’t have a clue what this film is. I don’t even know what it’s called. I looked at the listings and picked a time that worked. I have no interest in what it is. I wanted to have a traditional date at the movies where you don’t watch the film and simply make out with your partner. Are you onboard with that?”

Huxley lifted Grigg’s chin with his finger, leaning in to place a kiss on his lips, “I’m very much okay with that.”

**~*~**

**Date #7**

By the time that they had reached date number seven, Huxley knew that it was time for a serious conversation. One that they had been dancing around for the last few dates but one that needed to happen if they were going to continue, if they were going to be able to move forward. They needed to discuss what had happened to them all those years ago. They had discussed Huxley’s time in the Arctic, but they had yet to discuss what had happened to Grigg. They needed to know what they both wanted from this.

Huxley knew what he wanted. He wanted Grigg. Forever. The dates that they had been on had only solidified what Huxley had already been convinced of; Grigg was his omega, his mate. Huxley would even go as far as saying that Grigg was his true mate. After all, what other possible reason could there be for how his very being felt complete for the first time in years. Indeed, for the first time since he had reluctantly left a certain omega nestled in the blankets of his bed.

Dr Silman had made things very clear that, while she would keep Huxley as a client for the length of his treatment, her brother was off-limits as a topic. Huxley admired her intentions to remain distanced and professional, yet he couldn’t help the urge to tell her about the sensation that he had felt since that first date with Grigg; the sensation that he – that they - were being watched. If it weren’t for the fact that he had been watching Dr Silman, Huxley would have missed the way that she tensed ever so slightly before responding that he had been headline news and it wasn’t unreasonable that people would recognise him and stare. Huxley hadn’t been convinced but he had let it slide.

Instead, he had focused his attention on his courtship of Grigg.

Because it couldn’t be described as anything else now. He knew that he wanted to move forward, that he wanted Grigg forever. Huxley just needed to convince Grigg that that was what he wanted. He didn’t want to be overly confident, but he was fairly certain that things were going well. At the very least, the bitter tang of sadness had disappeared from Grigg’s scent leaving behind only that donut sweetness edged with the tang of technology that Huxley had fallen in love with all that time again.

Not wanting an audience for a potentially difficult conversation, Huxley had suggested dinner at his apartment, something that Grigg had agreed to with alacrity. Huxley wasn’t much of a cook; he hadn’t really had the ingredients to work with before his arrival in New York and, prior to his crash in the Arctic, he hadn’t really had the time. Still, he couldn’t really fuck up steak and baked potatoes. The apartment that his former employers were paying for was fancy, but it wasn’t exactly homely or welcoming. Instead, he fantasised about the day when he actually had a home to return to.

Preferably one with a certain omega in it.

He brought it up once they had eaten and were curled up on the couch together.

“Will you tell me?” Huxley was hesitant about broaching the subject, “about the other alpha?”

Grigg tensed, “what makes you think there was another alpha before you?”

“Your scent; both times we met the sweetness was marred by the bitterness of unhappiness, of sadness. I fully accept responsibility for the edge when we met outside your sister’s office; that was entirely my fault. However, your scent carried the same bitter edge the first time we met and that I cannot take responsibility for. Besides, I’m not insane enough think that I am the only alpha not to realise your charms.”

Grigg smiled softly, touching Huxley’s cheek gently in response, “but the only alpha to actually want me and stick around.” He smiled deprecatingly, “eventually.”

Grigg shifted around, trying to make himself comfortable and Huxley let him, making sure that he chose his position. Eventually he settled; not quite nestled up against Huxley, but close enough that he could feel the body heat.

“You’re not wrong. There was another alpha before we met. Jocelyn. We met at a hotel and, yes, I’m aware of the irony. It was in Stockton, one of these places that caters to conventions. There were three at the same time; a dog breeders convention, a Buffy conference and a Sci-Fi conference.”

“Dare I ask which one the alpha was there for?”

“The dog breeders one. She used to breed Rhodesian Ridgebacks. You’re not going to ask which one I was there for?”

“I still remember the silver costumes and body-paint from when we met. You were there for the Sci-Fi conference.”

“I was. We didn’t get off to the best of starts but she asked me to join a book club that one of her friends had set up. A Jane Austen book club. I was working tech support in Sacramento and didn’t really know anybody; I thought it was as good a way as any to get meet people. And, well, I liked her. I thought she liked me. Turned out that she invited me to join the book club because she wanted to set me up with a friend of hers whose husband had just left her. I thought she was trying to set me up with the friends’ daughter; I didn’t have a clue. I kept trying to get her to read Ursula Le Guin, she kept refusing. Once we’d got over the fact that I was attracted to her while she was trying to set me up with her friend, we started dating but it was far from simple. Too many misunderstandings. That should have been my clue that it wasn’t going to work out.”

“I think she was more in love with the idea of being in love than the actual act itself. I was a young, compliant omega; looking back, I think she thought of me as a puppy. Come to think of it, her dogs probably rated higher than me. Even so, it wasn’t easy when we broke up. It was just a few months later when we met.”

“Her loss is my gain. Not that I think you are mine,” Huxley stuttered and stammered his way through a whole host of words that he wasn’t convinced made sense. Hopefully, they conveyed the fact that he wasn’t one of those arrogant alpha knot-heads.

And then Grigg cut straight to the chase. Saying exactly what Huxley felt and exactly how he had hoped Grigg felt.

“Don’t you get it, Huxley? I _am_ yours. I have been since that night in the hotel. Your omega. Just as you are my alpha.”

There was no more talking for the rest of the night. At least nothing in full sentences that made sense.

~*~

**Date #10**

This was the big one.

Huxley had been invited to dinner at Dr Silman’s. A ‘meet the family’ evening, so to speak. He knew that Grigg’s parents had died about a decade ago, which was why Dr Silman – as Grigg’s oldest sibling – was stepping in. Things had gone incredibly well since their seventh date and they had even spent a couple of evenings together, although they hadn’t had sex again yet.

Whatever Huxley had been expecting from the evening, he hadn’t been expecting to be ambushed by Grigg on the doorstep.

“Hej, skat. Are you that eager to see me?”

“I’m so sorry, Hux. I didn’t realise that they were going to do this, that they were planning on trapping you into this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Grigg? Are you keeping Huxley on the doorstep? Bring him in why don’t you.”

Huxley accepted the kiss that Grigg bestowed upon him and allowed himself to be ushered into the house, where he was met by three formidable women.

“Hux, let me introduce my sisters; Bianca, Cat and Viola.”

“So, Huxley … what are your intentions towards our brother?”

Huxley had survived the Arctic, so why did facing the interrogation of these three women feeling like such a daunting task?


	6. Chapter 6

**One year later…**

Huxley couldn’t help but be relieved when the familiar outline of appeared in front of him. He hadn’t been gone long – a couple of days at most – but it felt like an eternity. Any time spent away from Grigg, away from his omega, was too long.

After a lot of thought and multiple discussion with both Grigg and Dr Silman, Huxley had decided to write a book about his time in the Arctic. Returning to his previous job as a pilot had no longer been an option for him – even though his former employers had been more than happy to have him back – and, as Dr Silman had suggested, Huxley had found the whole process rather cathartic. He had found an agent who was willing for him to do only the minimum amount of promotion and had selected the events accordingly. Huxley had just returned from a brief trip to New York to do several interviews and a, quite frankly, painful talk show about his book.

Just in time for his one-year anniversary with Grigg.

One whole year with the two of them blissfully happy.

Just over a year since they had run into each other outside Dr Silman’s office and, really, Huxley should probably start referring to her as Bianca now that they were related by marriage.

One year since that first date in Central Park where Huxley had been so completely terrified.

Nine months since Huxley had survived the interrogation of the three Harris sisters – Bianca, Cat and Viola – and managed to gain their approval for him dating their baby brother.

Six months since Grigg had realised that he was going into heat and had asked Huxley to share it with him. Six months since Huxley had given Grigg a mating bite mid-heat and they had reached the blissful discovery that they were true mates.

One year in which Huxley had seen virtually all of his dreams come true.

Pushing the door to their home open, Huxley was greeted with the heavenly scent that meant Grigg was in the throes of pre-heat. There was no sign or sound of him downstairs, so Huxley made his way up the stairs to their bedroom. There, he was greeted with a sight that stole the breath from him lungs; Grigg settled contentedly in a nest made up of a mixture of clothes, blankets and linens belonging to the two of them.

Maybe this heat would see the fulfilment of Huxley’s last remaining dream.

He had a home, had an omega – his true mate.

There was just one more thing that he desired.

A pup.


End file.
